I'm looking for help in people so helpless
I'm reaching the limits of reality, so hopeless
Too many restarts, too many religions - not enough substance
Too many cold places where warmth is subjective, objectively lonely in a hazard of voices...
The roads keep stretching and the steering is pathless
I'm looking for something in a whirlwind of compass, back and forth between restless and manic...
What they see is crafted, perfect illusions projected on open skies where everything is lost once casted...
I'm sure uncertainty is for me, a lovely companion in a silo where thick walls keep those from getting past it...
It doesn't matter the maps left on the grass, or unveiled corridors the sun's rays revealed in this labyrinth...
The only thing promised are roads unexplored - derealized afflictions are guarding opportunity...
...and nobody gets past it...
About the Creator
Patrick Santiago
Writing because I'm too poor to make movies. Working to change that!
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